hi, orangepumpkins here. i'm having a bit of a writer's block for some of the multi-chapter fics i'm trying to write and so, hurray for productive procrastination? this plot is probably really cliché, but i felt like writing it anyways. it's real short. also, there is no particular reason i chose that certain song for Arthur to sing, i just like that song.

i own nothing.

now you may proceed to the fic, enjoy and review please :)

It had been several years since my older brother left, but yet, Arthur fails to hide his sorrow. Every day, I endure the pain of being the replacement for Alfred, the better brother. Arthur and I live in his house together, the same one that Alfred used to live in as well. Alfred's room is exactly the same as the day he left; posters mounted on the walls, drawers half empty, some not even closed, and bed unmade. I see Arthur currently standing in the very room, just as always, shoulders slumped and an air of desolation surrounding him.

"Arthur? I made some tea." I called, popping my head into the abandoned bedroom.

"Oh! Alfred! I didn't see you there. I was just taking a look at the mess you left in this room. You really should clean it up some day." Arthur answered back. It was hard enough to be seemingly invisible to many others, but to be confused with Alfred by Arthur, a someone I loved? Each time I'm addressed by my brother's name, unthinkable pain squeezes my heart, just as it was now.

Then, I did something I thought I would never do. Sternly, I finally vocalised bottled up thoughts, "That's it! That's the last straw. I'm Matthew, not Alfred. I am different than my brother! You always confuse me with him and I can't take it anymore!"

An expression of shock found its way to Arthur's face, only to be badly masked with an apologetic smile. "Oh, my apologies!Slip of the tongue, really. You just look like the mirror image of Alfred. You are Matthew, I knew that."

I could feel my face tighten in offence. Not only did he plainly lie to my face, but he just needed to point out something that pushes all of my buttons, that Alfred and I look alike. We do not look alike; we have different shades and styles of hair and different coloured eyes! Not to mention completely different auras. "Of course you did! That's why in a few minutes, you're going to call me Alfred again and I'm just going to have to deal with it until I blow up in another 4 years again!"

I could see that he had no response for me. His green eyes shifted awkwardly. "Um... perhaps it's time for bed." Arthur finally decided to say, scratching the back of his neck timidly.

It was just pass 8 in the evening, the summer sun still showing its presence in the pale blue sky. Indifferently, I answered back, "Fine."

"Come on Matthew, I'll tuck you in and stay with you until you fall asleep." Arthur declared with a false tone of happiness and taking my hand to lead me to my room.

In my bed, Arthur lied beside me, on top of my blanket. I turned my body to the side, away from him, but still letting him pet my hair. Even though I was furious with him, I still liked any attention I could get, to make up for the lack of in previous years. He sang to me quietly lyrics from the Beatles' song, I Want to Hold Your Hand. About 20 minutes later, when Arthur felt too parched, he started talking. I figure that he thought I was asleep by then, because of what he proceeded to say.

"You really are silly Alfred, what did you hate so much about your name so much that you went and decided to call yourself Matthew. What kind of strange name is that anyways? And even going to the room across the hall? What am I going to do with you?" Arthur said with a small chuckle. "I guess I'll play along until you get bored." Then, slowly making his way off of my bed, he continued. "I think I'll go drink some of that tea you said you made, although it's probably cold by now. You've gotten better at making tea lately, Alfred." Just from his tone of voice, I could tell, he probably had that hopeless grin slapped on his face that he always has, thinking about Alfred. Tears were beginning to form in my eyes. "I love you, Alfred." I felt a kiss on the top of my head.

As Arthur left the room, closing the creaky door as quietly as he could, I relaxed my face, in hopes to let my tears wash away the sadness I felt, even though I knew it was useless. I'll never be Alfred, and Arthur will never remember me for me; I'll always be just a replacement.

i kind of feel bad making one of my favourite characters feel so sad, but what'd ya think?

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.